


The Cutting Room Floor

by Omnibard



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Multi, Things that didn't happen, recurring OTPs, rejected plots, rejected stories, what-ifs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-22 19:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14315619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibard/pseuds/Omnibard
Summary: This is a collection of all the ficlets, ramblings, and bits and bobs that never made it to a real story because I went a different direction or abandoned the fic idea. (but still liked the writing enough to share)Please see notes at the beginning of each 'chapter' for what they might be related to (if anything.)





	1. Niflheim Wins AU idea

**Author's Note:**

> The AU Where Niflheim Wins  
> "You ever have a fic idea all plotted out, and you keep thinking about it, but you never really want to get around to writing it out– you just really want to talk/obsess about it? I do."
> 
> (One of various AUs featuring my O/C Ariel Trammel)

Niflheim wins.  They used Ardyn for his knowledge of Magitek and then betrayed him, locking him away in a windowless room for the rest of his immortal life– because _somebody paid attention to history._

And sure, the first Lucian king ‘erased him from history’ but not entirely. After all, there’s a painting of him riding into town on a white chocobo as the all-loved healer he was.  So clearly they recognize he’s a) Lucian royalty–technically b) he’s somehow immortal and finally c) he’s probably up to no good.  Still, the Emperor relies heavily on the power of the daemons and so the ‘vanishing sickness’ is spreading, albeit much more slowly.

Loqi, Caligo, Ravus, Glauca and Verstael Besithia are left to keep the empire running while Aldercapt slowly succumbs to his madness from the daemons and his lust for the Crystal– as well as advanced age.In order to get beyond the New Wall of Insomnia, they fake a peace treaty like last time, but it is Ravus and Lunafreya who propose it– Ravus, more politically schooled than the others is made Chancellor on a probationary basis in Ardyn’s ‘absence’.  His first move as Chancellor, to prove his loyalty and competence was to marry Ariel Trammel to cement a firm bond between the Imperial government and the independent government of Accordo.  Lunafreya fears for her brother and sister-in-law both as well as fearing for Noctis and the line of Lucis agreed to go with her brother, if only to find her opportunity…– and many events play out similarly to Kingsglaive.  Except Lunafreya goes to Altissia like she’s supposed to, with Ariel, to marry Noctis (this was NOT Ravus’s plan nor Glauca’s) and they are all picked up by Niflheim there.

Because Luna isn’t in Insomnia to get ‘kidnapped’, a bunch of people don’t die unnecessarily (Crowe…) However, obtaining the Crystal is a much bloodier affair with the Kingsglaive there.  Especially since a number of Glaives, dissatisfied with Regis’s efforts concerning Galahd and other territories outside Insomnia AND how the king is agreeing to release them to the Empire in this treaty, go turncoat and help the Empire to secure the Crystal– stating it was a long time coming for the cold-hearted people of Insomnia.

Events at the treaty signing go much unchanged.  The still-loyal Glaives and the few Crownsguard guarding the Crystal are able to warn Cor and the other Crownsguard.  Cor returns to the Citadel.  Some of the Glaives are able to get into the signing chamber to help defend Regis’s life.  They are no match for Glauca and Ravus, however, and are forced to retreat with the king.

Cor meets them in the underground passageways and Regis passes him the Ring of Lucii, commanding him to take it to Noctis.  Glauca kills Regis and Clarus.  Ravus stops Cor and informs him that Noctis, his retinue, and Lunafreya are all in Niflheim custody, and demands his surrender in return for sparing Noctis’s life.  Because Ravus really wants Noctis dead.  But he also really doesn’t want Cor wandering free.  With the life of the new king– the Prophesied King of Light, no less– weighing on his decision, Cor surrenders.  Killing Ravus and even Glauca here would not secure the kingdom if Noctis remains imprisoned or is executed.  Insomnia falls, no Diamond Weapon is needed, and the Old Wall does not erect in defense of the city.

So all these jerks are prisoners of war now.

Luna is placed back in house arrest with her brother and sister-in-law.  Noctis and Gladio are secured in a dungeon separately where Noctis cannot use his power of kings to summon weapons or warp or anything.  Ignis is interrogated thoroughly as Glauca/Drautos knows he was being groomed to be the future Hand of the King.  Prompto is initially taken back to his creator, but when Besithia notes that he is ‘flawed’ he declares he does not want him and that he ought to be destroyed.  Ariel denounces this and takes custody of him.  Because Ariel is pretty pissed about what was done to Lunafreya here– how Lunafreya personally blames herself for everything that has occurred. So now Ariel is baring her teeth and showing off _her_ political know-how.  Prompto is put under her custody and is taken into her house.  She also slowly convinces Drautos to let her take over Ignis’s interrogation– she can _read minds_ , after all.  She also arranges for Luna to be able to see Noctis regularly, though these meetings are always very strictly guarded and secured.

Nobody really knows what to do with Cor.  50% of the time they want to just kill him, because interrogating him would be useless– Drautos is not stupid in this. Noone has discovered that Cor has the Ring– otherwise Ravus would have taken it and tried to become the Hero of Light.  Or Drautos would have.  (You can’t trust anybody with the damn Ring except literally Cor…) Cor considers off and on putting on the Ring, however he’s well-versed in the lore behind it and decides that ‘Immortal’ or not, he’s just a lowly soldier and the old kings of Lucii would probably recognize that. He determines that he’d only put it on if he absolutely had to– like _on-his-way-to-the-gallows ‘had to’_.   Until then, he’s keeping it hidden and safe until he can pass it to Noctis.  With Ariel becoming more and more involved with the situations of the prisoners– she’s also improved accommodations and care for Noctis and Gladio, and Ignis’s circumstances have improved tremendously (he _almost_ even likes her for it– because of course part of the interrogation is informing him and providing evidence of how well she’s been trying to take care of everyone.  It’s fairly successful…)– she eventually discovers Cor. Unfortunately, it’s more or less love at first sight for her.  She’s in a loveless marriage to a man who half the time _despises_ her lack of actual royal pedigree and the other half is trying to barter with her to somehow forward his own political agenda– because she has more sway over the Emperor than he does.  Pretty girls who smile get by better than pretty boys who frown, it seems.– and the whole time is rather indifferent to her desire and need for attention and affection.

Glauca is 300% against letting Ariel take Cor under house arrest and Ravus isn’t too far behind him– both of them suspect the house will not be enough to hold him, even though it proves enough to hold Prompto.  Though, admittedly, Prompto is a completely different kind of prisoner altogether, and admittedly he feels a great deal of loyalty toward Ariel lately. She saved him from _liquidation_ and is doing her best to protect his friends.  And she’s a pretty girl who talks to him!  Regularly!  And even Prompto thinks it’d be a dumb idea to try an escape while all his other friends are held hostage.  It’d be _different_ if there was some place to _go_ , if there was a resistance force he knew of, but so far, Niflheim’s victory seems pretty complete.  Ariel and Luna manage to badger Ravus enough to agree to moving Cor to the house, and Ariel also receives the blessing of the Emperor to do it.  Her argument is that like Ignis, Cor has vital information, namely information concerning the _rest_ of the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaigve, who are unaccounted for– _who_ they are, _what_ they can do, _what_ threat they may pose, and _where_ they might possibly be.  Certainly _classic_ interrogation methods would prove even _less_ effective against ‘the Immortal Marshal of the Crownsguard’ than they did against Ignis, but then surely _her_ methods could prove just as effective as they do on _everyone else_.  Cor is moved to Ariel’s house and is secured separately from Prompto.  Glauca is mad.

Prompto and Cor are in separate wings/floors of the house so they cannot collaborate and make plans (Ravus’s rule) but Lunafreya is given free reign of the house, she just cannot _leave_ it.  Ravus isn’t stupid enough to think she might not carry messages between prisoners, but he’s also certain Ariel won’t let her get away with it– if it becomes apparent she can’t control her prisoners, she will lose custody of them and things will go very badly for them. (Ravus has not yet figured out that ‘caring for the prisoners’ is not Ariel’s end goal.  He thinks her soft, prone-to-bleeding heart is making her act out of compassion.  That’s part of it, but unlike his sister, she’s really just focused on _fucking the Empire as hard as she can_ for what they did to _Lunafreya_.  And _Altissia_.  Keeping the POWs healthy and gaining their trust is just a _part_ of that…)  Cor learns that Lunafreya gets to see Noctis regularly and passes her the Ring to give to Noctis.  Ariel, of course, knew Cor had the Ring (because _mindreading_ ).

However, before Luna gets a chance to do this, Glauca and Besithia challenge Ariel’s position.  Besithia, having worked with Ariel’s parents knows what she _is_ and threatens to reveal this to the Emperor.  Meanwhile, Glauca entreats the Emperor to let him inspect their home to make sure everything is as it should be and she’s not housing a rebellion.  The Emperor grants this request– not because he suspects Ariel, but because he 100% _doesn’t_ , but he figures this would be the easiest way to calm everyone down.  He also wouldn’t mind learning what _Ravus_ is up to.

 _Ravus_ is up to trying to rebuild Tenebrae, so he’s a little (lot) bit peeved at this sudden inspection.  Ariel is more worried about Besithia’s threat.  She backs down enough to satisfy him, more or less removing herself from the fortress and the Emperor’s ear for the interim.  She spends her time at the house with her prisoners– Luna included– who can also go nowhere.

Cor has figured out pretty quickly that Ravus’s (unsatisfied) wife is into him.  He also figures out that Ravus _really_ doesn’t care about her.  He likely intends to use her to make an heir for Tenebrae at _some point_ in the future, but surely isn’t working on it _now_.  So he feels pretty safe nurturing her feelings for him, leading her on, and convinces himself the whole time that he’s just using her and doesn’t care about her _either_.  The house being on lock-down doesn’t suit him at all, so he wheedles out of her that she’s being blackmailed by Besithia.  When the house inspection ends, he manages to get Lunafreya to pass along what he’s learned to Prompto– he knows Prompto is somewhere in the house, but Prompto doesn’t know _he’s_ here.  Ariel catches them doing this and Cor explains that Besithia threatening _her_ puts all of _them_ in danger, and after everything she’s done for them… it’s the _least_ they can do.  Besides, Besithia is a damned _monster_.

So Ariel allows Prompto to slip out– under many heartfelt oaths that he will return– and goes to shut down Besithia and his work.  Cor does not go, because Cor is a high-profile prisoner and Prompto has more or less been _forgotten_.  Also, Prompto now knows a good piece of the layout of the facility.  Being equipped by one of the wealthiest houses in the Empire serves him well, and he is also 400% determined to get this shit _done_ (no boo-hooing or crises of identity this time… that happened _earlier_ before Ariel got him wrapped around her little finger more-or-less).  And he does, returning victorious and undetected by anybody that might cause trouble.  Cor is somewhat impressed at the talented little assassin/saboteur Prompto has become.

With Besithia’s grand-plans for godhood exposed, the Emperor deposes him post-mortem and Ariel comes out smelling like a rose for ‘always doubting him and the validity of his focus’.  Glauca has a little egg on his face now and decides to hush up for a little while in regards to suspecting her.  Meanwhile, Cor’s imprisonment under Ariel has _not_ been a _waste_.  Unbeknownst to him, she has gleaned useful information concerning secret Crownsguard camps and hidden strongholds where the quickly splintering forces still loyal to Lucis gather.  With Cor gone and the betrayal of the Kingsglaive made public, the resistance is un-unified and split into numerous factions.  At the very least, however, this war is a _political_ one against the Empire, and not one against the _destruction of mankind_.  Days are shorter, but not overly-noticeably so.  With Ardyn locked away and the King of Light and the Oracle still alive, the spread of Starscourge does not advance quickly. (with Lunafreya locked up, however, it spreads faster than it would had she remained free to accomplish her healing…)

Luna is able to see Noctis again and she gives him the Ring and tells him Cor’s intention that they escape together to join the rebellion forces and try to rally them under his crown.  Noctis wants to try and save his friends but is convinced not to due to the risk of re-capture.  Ariel discovers the plot and meets with them, giving them Gladio– another largely ‘forgotten’ prisoner– and a secret means of escaping Niflheim. The sisters part tearfully, unsure if they will meet again but knowing their efforts are better used separately from now on.  Ariel offered Prompto to go (she could not reasonably free Ignis or Cor for the value they still held to the Empire) but he refused, stating that with things ‘heating up here’ he would rather stay with her to maybe keep her safe, should the Empire discover her part in all the plots.

Glauca is absolutely livid that Noctis escaped with Lunafreya (and Gladio) and confronts Ravus about it.  Ravus confronts Ariel, fairly certain that any plot his sister had, his wife would know about.  Ariel asks Ravus how long he planned on underestimating the Oracle or defying the gods.  Ravus demands an explanation and Ariel denies him one.  Ravus cannot reasonably do anything about Ariel, however, because a) he fears her powers and how they’ve grown, and b) she’s the darling of Aldercapt– who still mistrusts him.

So basically Noctis and Luna go to lead the rebellion (or try…) and Ariel saps the Empire from within with Cor and Ignis and Prompto.  Ravus will probably come around once he learns that Ariel is totally supporting the idea of Tenebrae being a kingdom again.  Maybe eventually Ariel will finish seducing Cor into the idea of finishing seducing her.  And Prompto gets to feel like a badass knight-in-shining armor.

With Aldercapt fading fast, it’s going to come to Glauca or Ravus/Ariel leading the Empire– since the Emperor has no heirs.  Ariel is the obvious choice since the Emperor adores her and does not question her loyalty at all. (Again… _mindreading_ , also speaking to daemons… also y’know… smiling pretty girls and old men…)  Aldercapt keeps chastising Glauca for not heeding Ariel’s advice, for not supporting and tutoring her– grooming her to be a better Empress.  For not watching out for Ravus– who is the real threat to the Empire!  Glauca more or less determines the best way to deal with the future of the Empire is _with the sword_.  He begins plotting how to murder her and get away with it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ariel Trammel belongs to me. Everyone else belongs to SquareEnix.


	2. Shedos!Ferrus and Ignis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shedos!Ferrus and Ignis?" - ProwlingThunder
> 
> (This is from a story that eventually changed to become what is now [ "Cathedral of You"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/955296) )
> 
> (This features my O/C {from my Original Nation "Aisaure" and its Original Peoples/Species "Seraphagien"} Ferriferous et Sextus Trahaearn aka: 'Ferrus')  
> The major changes here are that Ferrus a) is the main protagonist and b) he never became Steward of Seras-Colleur and became a Shedos Brother instead.

“Is it customary for Shedos Brothers to keep their hair long?” Ignis asked as he finished cleaning up the camp stove to pack it away again, glancing over at the Shedos who was swiftly plaiting his locks into a long crimson rope.

“No, Master Ignis,” Ferrus said at length, eyes still resting on the three loitering out nearer and nearer the water, beyond the protection of the Haven.

“May I ask the significance of yours, then?  Assuming, of course, there is any?”

The Shedos did not answer, and Ignis debated whether to press him or not, and hazarded the risk, “I only ask because it seems such an obvious disadvantage to give oneself, particularly in battle, and a hassle to deal with concerning your lifestyle… Especially in your current circumstances.”

The olive eyes left the figures by the water a moment to meet the spectacled look for just a moment, “… Long hair is customarily the privilege of the Scions of the High Court in Aisaure, Master Ignis.  No Brother is born in Fortress Voddol.  We come from noble houses, many of us.  Tradition demands the second-born son, but only the provinces ascribe to such old, old ways.  It is a good place to bury the living, some fools say—to cast the sons of your enemies into the arms of Shed-Macha, to bind him with the oaths, and make of him a humble slave to one and all.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“Yes,” The Shedos said it simply, as if commenting on something innocuous, “… Also no.  My House was broken by the Scion-Imperius. I was… spared… the fate of my House because of my tender youth.”

“Ah…” Ignis said, aware that he had touched upon something he ought not have.

Ferrus shrugged, “… The tenets of Shed-Macha do not dictate what I do with my hair.  So I keep it long to remember I was once from a great and powerful House… and that they were punished.  I wear my hair long to remember the price of _treachery_ , Master Ignis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ferrus, the Shedos Brotherhood, and all other references to Aisaure belong to me. Ignis Scientia belongs to SquareEnix.


	3. Shedos!Ferrus meets Ravus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More like Chapter 2 (This was my original Long Fic...)
> 
> (This is from a story that eventually changed to become what is now [ "Cathedral of You"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/955296) )
> 
> (This features my O/C {from my Original Nation "Aisaure" and its Original Peoples/Species "Seraphagien"} Ferriferous et Sextus Trahaearn aka: 'Ferrus')  
> The major changes here are that Ferrus a) is the main protagonist and b) he never became Steward of Seras-Colleur and became a Shedos Brother instead.

In the dark hollows of the metal bones of this… _place_ … the Shedos almost missed the ringing of _cabalis_ through the air.  It was preferable to the tepid, swelling evil he seemed to drown in with every breath.  It pressed in at both temples, driving with steady force and turning his anxiety to find his _crus_ and companions into a steadily building fury.

It gave him no satisfaction.  He was certain this was the result the Chancellor was after.

He’d come this way, winding his way up staircase after staircase into the humming, clattering dark, across suspended walkways one after another.  After the first two encounters with the strange shambling, pitiless man-shaped creatures in armor, Ferrus had abandoned stealth and warnings in favor of simply cutting them down.  His weapons were not bound to the Power of Kings like Ignis, Prompto, Gladiolus and Noctis’s were.  They were steel and carried on his body by carefully crafted sheathes.  Their weight was a welcome comfort to him even as he climbed ever upward into the buzzing heights.  Their edge and force were effective in making short work the mindless foes that stood between him and the next door.

The Shedos’s anxiety swelled as the emptiness stretched on.  As if he were the only living thing left.

_It cannot be so.  I will not be forsworn._

Noise had drawn him this way, but nothing was here now, a sealed chamber ahead and the stabbing pressure above his eyes reaching a jaw-clenching climax.

“…last…-ived, Noctis…” Echoing through the dark, skittering across a thousand metal surfaces, it took him several moments to realize the distant voice came from _below_.

Peering over the railing of the suspended walkway, Ferrus saw two figures several walkways below, looking small.  One wore white, stooped over.  One was in black, approaching in a slow, casual gait.  He recognized them both and hopped over the railing into the open air and a freefall, his hood blowing back, crimson hair trailing like a banner.

 

Ravus extended the hilt of King Regis’s sword, lacking the strength to lift it, “Now go forth, my King.  Shine your light–”

Suddenly something crashed into Noctis from above, causing him to cry out and driving him to his knees.  But just as suddenly it was not Noctis at all, but Chancellor Ardyn Izunia.  A black-clad figure gained his feet smoothly, yanking a long fighting-knife blade from the Chancellor’s back while a curtain of long red hair fell around them both.

“You?!” Ravus exclaimed, confused.  He recognized this man– the Aisaurian member of Noctis’s retinue.

“ _You_!” Ardyn sounded equal parts irritated, surprised, and amused.

The Aisaurian did not respond, he was still moving both hands.  In a blur and glint of steel in the inconstant light, Ardyn’s body fell, his head bouncing down and away a moment after, rolling over the edge of the walkway.

Ferrus used his leg to shove the Chancellor’s body off the other way and then moved swiftly to Ravus.

When first and _last_ they had met, Ravus had been newly-appointed High-Commander and had faced Noctis and his retinue as an enemy.  He had defeated and shamed the King’s Shield, and been prepared to do the same with the whole of them.  He had not tested his strength against the Aisaurian, but remembered desperately _wanting to_.  The glaring lines of disapproving _Thou Shalt Not_ across every plane of his body and posture had dared him to step forward despite how silent and unobtrusively the man had stood there.  He had wondered, then, how a man could be _so in his way_ without actually standing between himself and the Prince of Lucis.

He wondered now, however, how he could feel so small and insignificant before a man he did not even know.  Something– some great purpose swelled within the stranger like a light, swathing him in power, and Ravus was quite certain he would be cast over the railing one-handed, as weightless and inconsequential as any piece of rubbish.

Instead, the blade went away, disappearing in the black coat somewhere at the Aisaurian’s back, and he stepped around him to take his human arm– obviously avoiding the magitek prosthetic.

“We must go.” The redhead’s voice was quiet, seeking a calm impassiveness, but a clear timbre of some emotion–anxiety, fear, anger?– colored it, “That will not delay him _long_.”

Ravus had seen too many horrors here to question the veracity of his words.  He took the man’s assistance, begrudgingly glad to borrow his strength in the wake of his defeat and fall from the Emperor’s chamber.  “How… how did you know?” He asked instead.

Noctis had been Ravus’s sworn enemy or at least rival for almost as long as he had known him.  It was appalling that he would not recognize an imposter.  Additionally, he had already known of Chancellor Ardyn’s power to steal the shape of others temporarily.

“I am bound beyond death to Noctis, my lord prince.  No _cabalis_ can separate us or veil my judgement against him.  You seek him, do not you?  Come, we will go together– two swords are better than one in this unholy place.  Be warned, however– I will not be forsworn.  Should you prove false… I will kill you myself.“ He said it all so _simply_.  Ravus was used to the direct practicality of soldiers, but this was a separate level of confidence he’d never known before.

There was no bluster or bluff here.

“… You’re the real thing, aren’t you.” He said quietly, embarrassed by the tinge of awe in his tone, “A Shedos.  I have heard something of the legends… the immaculate warrior priests of Aisaure, bound by oaths of protection in this world… and beyond.”

“I am humbled by your notice, Prince of Tenebrae.”

“Ha.  You mock me?” But Ravus did not think he was.  There was nothing of either humor or derision in the rigid man, “I should have tested your steel when I had the chance…”

“It is better you did not.  I do not think you would be alive now.”

“Do you think so little of my skill?”

“It would not be by my hand.  Did not you learn that Shedos kill only in necessity?  The Chancellor is a very dangerous… very vicious… very unstable man, my lord prince.”

Ravus sighed, “… He meant to kill me, did he?”

“He approached your sister much the same way.”

“… And you saved her too.”

“I was commanded thus.”

“And now?”

“No.  But she would want to save you if she could.  I will do what I am able, but no more that might risk my oathbound tasks.” The Aisaurian looked at him, a gleam in his olive eyes, “Besides, like as not, I take some pleasure in denying that snake his satisfaction in toying with the lives of others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ferrus, the Shedos Brotherhood, and all other references to Aisaure belong to me. Everyone else belongs to SquareEnix.


	4. That Terrible 7-page Self-Insert I Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Anon left me a super sweet prompt(?) Ask and I spent two full days agonizing over it. I don't really DO self-insert fan-fiction, but that seemed to be the request and I decided to try...  
> SEVEN AWFUL PAGES LATER I abandoned the effort and wrote a [smaller paragraph](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14315862/chapters/33392073) and posted it. This is absolutely abandoned, right there where it ends.
> 
> The Prompt:  
> anonymous asked:  
> As your happy neighbor I let in your bf. He’s waiting in the kitchen I think? Meanwhile: Cor waited by the stove as his famous ‘chef in one pot’ simmered away. He had to wear your apron to keep his nice pants from getting anything on them. Hearing you come in he turned and greeted you with a nod then a hug that was moderately awkward. “Welcome home. I hope you’re hungry.”

The car in front of the mailbox had been a dead giveaway that I had company.  I’d thought it strange that nobody had texted me, though. Then I had noticed the car was  _ empty _ .  That was weird too.  The backyard gate didn’t open from the front (THANKS landlord) and nobody had a key to the house…  So I’d pulled into the garage and entered the kitchen through the attached door. Fortunately, I did  _ not _ drop everything in my hands in shock at the sight of the big man in black inexplicably in my kitchen.

“Fff--piss, you scared me!”

His brows quirked together, “Sorry, not my intention.” He didn’t manage to  _ sound _ very sorry, and in fact he appeared quite  _ pleased _ with himself. “Welcome home.”

Then he pulled me into a hug, ignoring the lunch bag, water jug, and uniform cap in my hands.  It was a stiff, almost absent-mindedly  _ distant _ hug-- maybe even  _ perfunctory _ , and it left me feeling off-balance and on edge.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He finished.

It had taken some time for us to get used to each other, to physical affection-- how much, how often, when, how-- but we’d gotten to a place where  _ awkwardness _ like this actually meant something besides ‘I don’t know wtf I’m doing pls bear with me’.  Something must be wrong.

Something  _ starting _ with the fact that my boyfriend, Crownsguard Marshal and legendary Immortal though he may be, had only been in my house once or twice before, very briefly, and did not have a key.

“... Thank you?  I could be hungry… But, what are you doing in my house?   _ How _ are you in my house?…”

“I met your neighbor when I got here.” Cor informed me, deceptively conversational, “Very friendly.  Let me in.”

I stared at him-- him,  _ Cor Leonis _ in my kitchen, making dinner, wearing that stupid frilly, polka-dot apron reading “ONLY TRUST ME WITH FIRE AND KNIVES IN THE KITCHEN” my brother had bought for me as a joke two birthdays ago and apparently  _ no shirt _ under it-- and said slowly, “... Cor I haven’t given  _ anybody _ a key to my house.”

He blinked at me.  So I asked, “Cor… how did you turn off my alarm?”

“What alarm?”

“My security alarm.  It’d go off as soon as you walked in.  You need my PIN. The console is in the hall.”

“Never heard an alarm.”  Cor was already moving, heading for the front door, “Watch the pot.  Don’t touch anything.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“You’re going out in that  _ apron _ ?!”

The front door opened and shut behind him.

He was back less than ten minutes later.  I had put away my lunch pail and was washing a few dishes.  “What was that about?”

On the counter, he placed a house key, then returned to the stove. “Said it was left by the previous renter.”

“Oh.” I blinked at it, then at his bare back,  _ nearly _ managing to keep from staring, “I… Do you want to hang onto it…?”

He didn’t answer, so of course I was immediately self-conscious.  My options then, were to change the subject or  _ run away and hide in my bedroom _ . “So um… since you’re making dinner, does this mean I get to play video games all night?”

“No.” He informed me, humorlessly, “It means you get to go change, clear and wipe down your table so we can eat at it, help me wash dishes, and then you get the distinct privilege of helping me review the 2017 Interior Review.  And my speech notes for the same.”

“Ah.  Here I thought you  _ missed me _ , but instead there are  _ ulterior motives _ .” I laughed.

He shrugged, and I neglected to ignore the way it rippled through his muscles, “Fair trade agreements.”

“This is like those high-school movies where the hot guy dates the nerd girl to use her brain.” I sighed, “If you’re going to make me work, I’m not dressing cute for you.  I’m literally just putting on a pair of shorts… though I guess I need to keep my bra on…”

Yeah.  Sometimes stupid comes out of my face.  It happened a lot around Cor.

“Don’t force yourself on my account.”

Glad his back was turned, I mumbled while my face heated, “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m in that age bracket where  _ gravity _ starts working…”

_ Then _ I retreated to my bedroom.  Once safely there, I crouched on the floor and buried my face in my arms, wondering if I was going to survive the night.  Because  _ Cor fucking Leonis _ was  _ in my house _ , without a shirt on, and  _ yes _ he was my boyfriend, technically-- and I still couldn’t explain  _ how _ that had  _ happened _ \-- but the house wasn’t clean, he’d gone and… done  _ something _ … to get a spare key from my neighbor, and he was making me dinner in exchange for helping him with a report and a speech and I had  _ stupidly _ mentioned my  _ body _ , and if he didn’t leave here thinking I was the most slovenly loser girlfriend he couldn’t dump  _ fast enough _ , then it was  _ only _ because he was a  _ saint _ !

Then I uncoiled, and changed into a pair of shorts, leaving on my uniform undershirt and went back downstairs to clear and wipe down the dining room table, noticing that the spare key was no longer on the countertop.  Naturally, I spent a long time obsessing over it.

“Dom, where’re your bowls?” He called from the kitchen.

“On your left.  Cupboard, bottom shelf.  Where is your  _ shirt _ ?  Or… shir _ ts _ ?”

“Washer.”

“Do I want to ask?”

“Knowing you?  Probably. Maybe I’ll even tell you.”

It was nice, that he was making the effort to joke with me. “Well  _ be _ that way, then, but do you want me to switch them to the dryer?”

“Would be nice,” He admitted, “But I figured you’d want me topless all night.”

“Well… Now that you mention it…”

But I did make my way out into the garage while he transferred deliciousness from the pot into two bowls, and popped open the washer to see a full load of laundry, freshly finished with a rinse cycle.  I did laundry on the  _ weekends _ …

Before I could talk myself out of it, I was back in the kitchen, “You did my  _ laundry?! _ ”

His expression was unruffled, “There was a pile of t-shirts and socks on the floor.  Figured they were dirty.”

“On my floor… Y-you were in my  _ bedroom _ ?!”

He furrowed his brow and blinked, setting down the serving spoon, “... Yes.  I wasn’t going to wash just  _ three _ damn shirts.”

I stared at him, then blurted, “Thank you.” and stepped back into the garage, closing the door behind me.

Then I buried my face in my arms on the washer.  Because  _ Cor fucking Leonis _ had been in my  _ fucking bedroom _ where the bed wasn’t made and the sink wasn’t clean and my  _ bras and panties _ were hanging to dry on a rack and my dirty laundry was on the  _ fucking floor _ because I hadn’t taken the time to fold my  _ clean laundry _ and put it away to free up baskets.

Why did I have a boyfriend?  Why did I have  _ Cor fucking Leonis _ as a boyfriend?  Why had I thought I could  _ do _ this-- could  _ be _ a halfway decent adult human being for him?  Why did I  _ give him a key to my house _ so he could be  _ disgusted with me _ at his  _ leisure _ ?!

I moved the wet, clean clothes to the dryer, checking the laundering tags on his shirts to make sure they were dryer safe-- I’d never washed his clothes before and if I  _ screwed up _ and ruined something of his, I would probably find a way to suicide with a  _ fucking wet sock. _  Then I went back in, once my hands stopped shaking and my face had cooled.

My  _ boyfriend _ was waiting at the dining room table with the two bowls, two forks, two glasses of water and a small stack of napkins.

“I’m imposing on you,” He said when I sat down, matter-of-factly, with way too earnest of an expression on his stern face for a middle-aged man in a frilly novelty apron. “I came over unannounced and invaded your space…”

Shifting uneasily, I couldn’t meet his look, chewing my lip, “Yes.  You did. But it’s okay. I’m just going to keep wanting to die of humiliation over every little thing.  It’s my own fault for not keeping house. I’m sorry you… saw all this.”

“... I’ll go after dishes… if you want.”

“That’s not what I want, but if that’s what you want… I understand.”  I did  _ understand _ , but it’d shatter me into a billion pieces of self-hate  _ anyway _ .  I didn’t have wine enough to recover from that.  He didn’t reply, so I said, “When’s your speech?”

“Tomorrow.”

I very, very carefully took my first bite under his watchful eye, “Of course it is.”

“In my defense, I found out I was giving it this morning.”

“ _ Naturally _ .”  But he looked at me, brow furrowed like that, and I relented, “I’m just being a jerk because I think I’m witty or something...  It’s really fine. It’s  _ really _ fine.  I’m… I’m actually very flattered you came to  _ me _ for help instead of the… dozens of clerks… you’ve got at your disposal at the Citadel.”

“I didn’t want another lecture about making clerks cry.” He shrugged and took a bite, and I harbored my secret love-affair with watching his mouth to fuel my frequent daydreams about what it might  _ feel like _ .  He was probably a  _ great kisser _ .

He was probably a great  _ everything. _

“Ah.  I see.  Saving all your maliciousness for  _ me _ .”

“I  _ did _ cook.”

“This is true, and it’s delicious, thank you.  You’ve gone and wasted your talent on me. As usual.”

“Sometimes,” He intoned quietly, without looking up from his bowl, “it makes me angry the way you talk about yourself.”

“... Sorry.  Like I said… I think I’m funny.  Or witty.”

“You  _ are _ witty.  You don’t have to trash yourself to prove it.”

I didn’t believe him.  Not really. I didn’t have the courage to bring up another topic of conversation.  We were almost completely finished with our bowls when he observed, “I didn’t ask about your day…”

“It… it was fine.  Nothing interesting.”

_ Nothing interesting. _  It was like the all-encompassing tagline for who and what I was.  My  _ curse _ .  There’d  _ been _ interesting things in my life-- things I’d done, places I’d been, but I couldn’t make them  _ sound _ interesting.  It was entirely within the realm of possibility that I was a life-form so uninteresting and so lacking in ambition that everything I touched became  _ less interesting _ by association.  Why was this man in my life?

Dinner was wrapped up, dishes were done-- he washed, I dried, because I knew where everything went.  Then we went to the livingroom and the leather loveseat-- because it wasn’t cluttered with a laptop and gaming paraphernalia.  I quietly choked to death on more humiliation.

“Are you really going to wear that apron in my living room?”

“It’s growing on me.”

“You can  _ keep it _ , but you’re not wearing it in my living room.  Where is this paperwork?”

Cor scoffed, “Going to be bossy  _ and _ keep me half-naked…” Then he indicated my laptop and went to collect his jacket, which he’d hung up in the closet under the stairs.

“Your shirts will be dry any minute now.”

“Better enjoy the eye-candy while it lasts, then.”

I had been in the middle of going to retrieve my laptop for him, but I stopped and watched him return, folded papers in his hands, “... Cor…?”

He’d pointed out  _ twice now _ how his being topless was more or less for my benefit.  Had I said something that led him to believe I wanted to… to ogle him?  Was he trying to…  _ do something _ for me this way?

Or did I have it  _ backwards _ ?  Could it be… even  _ remotely possible _ that  _ Cor fucking Leonis _ was… horny?  Horny for…

… for  _ me? _

No.

No no no.  That was insane.  That was way off the deep end.  That was me  _ projecting _ , because I  _ was _ hot for his body (who wasn’t?) and I  _ did _ desperately want him hot for mine.  But we hadn’t even kissed yet.

“What?”

“... Nothing.  Do you want a blanket?”

“I’m fine.”

We resituated on the couch and I booted up the computer and looked through the folded papers.  They were  _ handwritten notes _ .  And his handwriting left… much to be desired.  I made no comment.

I could work for the man.  I wasn’t interesting or sexy or tidy.  I was a disgrace of an adult and a mess of a woman.  But I could proofread his report. I could prepare his speech from his illegible notes.

I could do this.

He plugged a thumb drive into the USB port, and I blinked at it, “Um.  This is all… declass and all, right?”

“Well... if your laptop is confiscated tomorrow, it definitely has nothing to do with this.” He said in his best deadpan.

“Well piss, I wish you’d told me so I could take all my--”

“Your what?”

Porn.  I was going to joke about all the porn I didn’t have, but I didn’t because he already had me second-guessing every fucking thing I said.  Well.  _ I  _ had me second-guessing everything I said, rendering me a nearly useless bundle of nerves. “Nevermind.”

He frowned once more, “... I was kidding.  Of  _ course _ it’s declassified, Dom.”

“Of course.  You wouldn’t be so careless.  Where’s this report, so I don’t dig through all your stuff.”

He showed me and a three hundred page document opened. “... Is this due tomorrow?”

“First thing.”

“Tell me this isn’t the rough draft…please.”

“Fifth draft.  Final copy. Should be pristine.  I just need a final pair of eyes I trust before the Council stomps all over my dick over it.”

“That aren’t yours.”

“Truth be told, I’d rather the dick stomping than look at it  _ one more time _ .”

I sighed, “That’s fair.  Your speech is summarizing this, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And your notes here are complete?”

“Far as I can tell.”

Turning to face him, I was going to say something snide, but on top of being shirtless and  _ Cor fucking Leonis _ on my  _ couch _ , he looked  _ tired _ .

Furrowing his brow, he asked, “What?”

“... Thank you for cooking.  It was delicious.”

He fumbled for a reply, eventually settling for a muttered “You’re welcome.” and I started my attempt to navigate through his notes, occasionally asking him to interpret something for me-- because worse than his handwriting were his  _ annotations _ that he’d apparently made  _ after _ the fact, leading to a tangle of tiny-printed words in a bubble attached to an underlined phrase or word.  Then the dryer buzzer went off, so the Marshal went to go fetch his shirts.

“Cor.   _ Just _ your shirts.  You  _ don’t _ get to fold my laundry for me.”

I could tell he wanted to argue, but there was only  _ so much _ humiliation I could bear… and I think he realized that was one imposition too many.  I tried hard not to think about how offensive my entire  _ life _ \-- house not clean, laundry not folded, not dressed cute, unaware of random people having keys to my damn house-- probably was to him, and returned to his nightmarish notes.  The sooner I finished, the sooner he could leave. And of  _ course _ he wanted to leave.  My house was unkempt and I was even more awkward and bristly than usual.   _ I _ wouldn’t want to stay, in his shoes.  I just didn’t have the choice.

All momentum for work crashed to an abrupt halt because my  _ gorgeous boyfriend _ was walking back into the living room, pulling on one of his shirts, and my eyes were desperate to drink in the pull of muscles and flexing of his arms and hands.  His eyes caught me looking, and he gave me a long look.

Which I broke, of course, heat suffusing my face, and tried to focus again on the notes.  If he had something to say about it, he didn’t bother, and simply settled back onto the loveseat.  And stared.

He likely didn’t mean to.  Cor Leonis was notoriously restless, and I’d gone and given him  _ nothing to do _ , so all that was left to him was to watch me try and decipher his awful notes and transcribe them into something that could eventually become an articulate speech.  Unfortunately, thanks to my un-slaked  _ thirst for him _ on top of my  _ ADD _ , and  _ crippling self-doubt, _ this meant I was not-so-slowly-or-subtlety losing mind mind under his scrutiny.

_ Why did I think I could do this?  Why did I think I could be  _ **_any_ ** _ kind of useful to him?! _

Then he reached for me.  Flinching, I glanced at him, determined he could do  _ anything he wanted _ because it wasn’t like I could  _ stop him anyway _ , and shuffled papers while his hand gripped my narrow shoulder, his fingers sliding down my back.

“What’s up?” I queried.

“Relax.”

“Only  _ minisculey _ more possible now that you’re completely dressed… but still not really in the realm of practical application.” I told him.

His fingers were looking for where the muscles in my back bunched up,  _ pressing _ here and there to try and bleed some tension out of me.  His hand was  _ warm _ . “I thought you… wouldn’t mind.”

“I didn’t.  But I wasn’t going to  _ relax _ either.  If you haven’t noticed, it’s very rare I can relax around you.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“... I don’t want to disappoint you.   _ More _ .” I explained, sighing as his fingers dug into the tendon between shoulder blade and spine, “I’m waiting for you to decide you’ve made a terrible mistake in giving me your time… and I want to be ready for it.  So I can… I don’t know… survive with a shred of dignity.”

“Haven’t you heard?  I don’t leave survivors.” Were his musings.

Chuckling, I shook my head, “Very comforting.”

“So is learning you’re waiting for me to break up with you.”

“... I’m--”

“--You’re sorry.  I know.”

Horror.  I stared at him,  _ horrified _ .  Did he think I was just  _ saying _ it? Did I… did I not feel  _ badly enough _ about it?  I could feel worse.  I could dig deeper. I could.  I could eviscerate myself until nothing but bile black self-flagellating rage and pain came out.  I could--

Sighing he scooted nearer, his hand moving from my back to stroke his fingers through my hair.   _ Cor fucking Leonis _ was a big man, and it was only for the sake of the laptop and the papers in my lap that I did not shrink away from his sudden nearness.  I wasn’t  _ afraid _ of him, not really, but he dwarfed me so  _ easily _ , it was difficult to hold ground before him.   _ Avoidance  _ was my primary mode of self-defense.

“Don’t be sorry.  Don’t feel guilty.   _ Stop _ expecting me to be as unforgiving as you are about yourself.  We’re still feeling this out. Stop skipping ahead.” 

“R-right.”

“Do I need to stop touching you?”

“Only… only if you want me to do this.” I indicated the things in my lap.  Cor seemed to debate it, then settled back on his side of the couch, dropping his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Got questions? Want to talk about it? [Here's your mic! ](https://mtraki.tumblr.com/ask)


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